


Once upon a December

by Lady_Aurora



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Smut, because i think we all need one right now, fairytale, insomniac stories, or maybe just me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Aurora/pseuds/Lady_Aurora
Summary: The fairytale I think we all need for Christmas.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Original Female Character(s), Éomer Éadig/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Beautiful People!  
> This was supposed to be a one shot but it grew and grew and here we are. With everything happening around us I just needed something good and some fluff so I wrote myself a fairytale. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.  
> English is not my mother language, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes you may find.   
> Every comment and kudos are highly appreciated.   
> There are four chapters to this story. I will try to post them all before New Year’s.

The spring was wonderful that year. Like the world took a deep relieved breath after the war, like the nature was freed after being clashed under the foot of the evil for so long. The green of the grass and the colours of the flowers have never been so bright. Or at least she thought so.

The evening was cool, but pleasantly so, the air crisp and filled with the fragrance of the earth, rain and flowers. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The last rays of sunshine warmed their faces as they sat around the fire. She had a profound feeling of peace and serenity that she hadn’t had in years. Or maybe never, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way. The last years were filled with so much fear and death. Only now she felt the knot in her stomach somewhat loosening.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the voices of her friends, their laughs, the sound of crickets and distant howls of owls in the nearby forest. It was so perfect, she could hardly believe it was true. Almost all of her friends returned from the war. Only one of them had not. Like that thought had flew from her mind, Holddor raised his mug and spoke, voice loud but slightly shaking, “To Fengar, may he live forever in the glory of the halls of our fathers, as he deserve to sit among them with pride. Farewell, brother.”

He was answered by the combined voices of everyone gathered, “Farewell”.

The tears stung in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. She cried for many days after she found out about her friend’s death. Now it was more of a bittersweet feeling. She knew that all the men missed him too, but they also were comforted by the fact that he died in battle like he wanted to, like a rider was supposed to. His courage and sacrifice should ensure his place in the halls of their fathers where he could go with his head held high. She tried her best to think that way too. She tried not to think that Fengar will never make her laugh again, like only he ever could. That she will never see him smile or hear his voice. That he will never marry, never father a child. That he will never see the beautiful spectacle of colours and lights on the sky at dusk, as she was experiencing now.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. No, she shouldn’t think like that. He’d had a happy life and he died like he wanted to. They all were so young and yet seemed a lifetime older. They all were changed by the war. Men by the battles and women by the long time they needed to tend to their houses, their children, the old and wounded, trying to get by with what they had. Deaths and the emptiness they left behind changed them all the same, although they didn’t show it in the same way. It will probably take another five, ten, twenty years or maybe even a lifetime to make them whole again. Whole but never as they had been.

“You seem somewhere else, little Ray”.

She blinked and turned her head towards the voice.

“It’s been a long time since someone called me that, _your grace_ ”.

Éomer sat down on the grass beside her, crossing his legs and leaning on his arms against his knees.

“You promised,” he sighed, clearly irritated. “You promised me a moment to forget”.

“I know, I am sorry. I know this night is important to all of us but to you,” she leaned against his shoulder and let him wrap his arm around her. “I know that for you it’s different”.

He murmured something in response, too quiet to be heard.

Truth be told, they organised that whole evening for him. The last night of freedom before tomorrow, when the crown will be put on his head and the responsibility for their people on his shoulders.

He called himself an “accidental king”. He never expected to find himself in that position but life, as it usually does, had its own plan. She knew he felt uncomfortable as he’s never been good at court politics and understanding its complexities and “unnecessary decorum”. However, she also knew that underneath the fear and insecurities, he was excited and proud to be able to help their people to rebuild, to stand strong again after everything they had to endure.

“I am truly going to miss this, Ray”.

She smiled sadly, when his arm pulled her even closer. She looked around people gathered around the fire and understood exactly what he meant. For so long there were the eight of them – Éomer, Balthain, Herudred, Holddor, Fengar, Saewyn, Éowyn and her. Now, Fengar was dead and Éowyn was away, living with her husband. Saewyn and Herudred were to be married next month. They sat together, their hands intertwined, looking at each other with such pure love in their eyes it was almost indecent. She knew they never thought to be able to marry, that Herudred was supposed to die in the war so their happiness was even more deserved. Earlier that day Saewyn’s mother had finished her wedding dress and the girl was absolutely ecstatic about her day coming closer.

She watched her dear friends, drinking, singing, laughing and couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to the day it all started.

_The day was unbearably hot. Her clothes were sticking to her skin, sweat was running down her back and from her forehead into her eyes. She just finished helping her father and her mother let her go out and play before dinner but her friends were nowhere to be found. She went into the tavern planning to ask the owner, Godhild, for a glass of cold water._

_After she went into pleasantly dim and cool room, she immediately heard Fengar’s voice._

_“You are cheating!”_

_“No, I am not. I am just better than you at this.”_

_She found Fengar, Herudred and Saewyn sitting at one of the tables with a boy she didn’t recognise. He was taller and probably a few years older than her friends. His pale blond hair, almost the same shade as the sand, were pulled into a low bun. His clothes were much finer that theirs. She instantly realised who he was – the king’s nephew._

_“What are you doing?” she asked, coming closer and sliding on a bench next to Saewyn._

_“We are playing chess,” the girl answered, playing with her braid. “Fengar lost and he is not taking it very well”._

_“That’s not true,” Fengar said indignantly. “Éomer cheated.”_

_“I did not. We can play another game and I will beat you again if you want. And who are you?” Éomer asked, looking at her._

_“Cyneith,” she hold out her hand and he shook it, a bit surprised. It was not a common thing for a woman or a girl to shake hands with a man but for some reason she liked that way of greeting much better. One of many of her quirks. “And I can beat you”._

_Éomer laughed loudly. “Sure,” he said, condescendence clear in his voice._

_“Are you scared?” she asked sweetly._

_He just snorted and started to fix pieces on the chess board. Oh, he was so easily provoked._

_Half an hour later Éomer was the one who was deadly sure he had been somehow cheated._

_“I told you I can beat you,” she said in the most innocent voice she could muster. His anger was very amusing for her. He was just like the other boys, they just couldn’t stomach the idea of losing to a girl._

_“I am better at chess than my uncle. There is no way that you are better than me”._

_“Has it ever occurred to you that your uncle just let you win sometimes?”_

_Éomer looked at her exasperated. “What?” he spat._

_“Don’t get me wrong,” she said standing up from the bench. It was almost time to get back home. “I am not saying you are not good at it, you are. But there is always a possibility that someone is better than you, even if that someone is a younger girl. And nobody likes the sour looser”._

_She left before he could say another word._

_A week later the heat was still almost impossible to withstand. She was helping her mother with the laundry, carrying two very heavy buckets filled with water from the well when someone called her name._

_She put the buckets down and turned around clenching and unclenching her hands, trying to regain feeling in them. She really hated going to the well._

_Éomer was going towards her, looking a little bit uneasy._

_“Can I help you with something?” she asked. She probably should have spoken more politely but she was really, really tired. Moreover, her mother didn’t let her go and play with her friends in the forest near the stream, where it was much cooler because she needed help around the house. She knew it was her duty to help her parents and usually she did it without a word but today it irritated her beyond reason._

_“I,” he said, nibbling on his lower lip, clearly anxious._

_“Spit it out, please. I have work to do”._

_“I,” he stared again. He clasped his hands before him and sighed deeply. “I want to apologise”._

_She didn’t know what she expected but it surely was not that._

_“I spoke with my uncle and you were right, he did let me win sometimes. He thought that it will make me feel better when I had a bad day but I think that it did the exact opposite thing,” he frowned, maybe trying to understand his uncle’s reasoning. “I didn’t need him to do that. I want to truly be the best, I want to learn. I,” he stopped again, like the thing he wanted to say was too hard to get it out._

_She could feel that it cost him a lot to say that and she admired that he admitted to be wrong. She never understood why people thought that acknowledging their mistakes was a sign of weakness. Her mother taught her that it was a sign of wisdom, maturity and bravery and she agreed with that._

_“Who taught you to play chess?” he blurted finally._

_“My father. He is a baker but his is very good at chess. He was taught by his father and is teaching me. You, as most around here, probably think that it is unbecoming for a girl to-”_

_“No,” he interrupted her. “No I do not. Why should I?”_

_“I don’t know,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. She truly didn’t. She always had a hard time understanding why she couldn’t do the same things as boys did. “People just do”._

_“Will you teach me?”_

_She studied him with narrowed eyes._

_“Really? You want me,” she asked in disbelieving tone, pointing her finger at her chest . “To teach you?”_

_“Yes. You are better than me and I want to be the best. What other way there is to be better if not learning from someone who was able to defeat you?”._

_She was so taken aback that for a moment she couldn’t find her voice. She hadn’t met a lot of high born children. The ones she had, mostly sons of the members of the court that sometimes came to play with them, were all spoiled brats._

_“Fine, but you will teach me to shoot a bow”._

_“Fine”._

_He extended his hand and they shook on it._

“Ray, you are miles away again”. Éomer’s voice next to her ear brought her back from her memories.

That ridiculous nickname he had given her, once meant as a insult, then became a sign of endearment. Raven. The boys started calling her that a few days after they’ve met. “Because of your hair,” they said then. It wasn’t exactly true. She had been a bony, skinny teenager at that time and she had known that Saewyn has always been “the pretty one”. Only after her sixteenth birthday Cyneith started to grow into her look. Now she was a grown woman, quite happy with the way she looked but the nickname remained.

_“Why really did you start to call me Raven?” she asked Éomer when they sat one day in the forest, cooling their feet in the stream._

_His cheeks flushed and he seemed truly embarrassed._

_“Because of your hair,” he answered, avoiding looking her in the eyes._

_“Spare me your nonsensical excuses. You know that I only ever want the truth. Even if it is not pleasant to hear”._

_He took his time forming his answer but he knew she would always catch him on a lie. It was something he equally loved and hated about her._

_“Well, it was because of your hair but also about the way you looked like. I am sorry, I was a stupid little boy”._

_“It was not so long ago, you know,” she told him. She tried to seem unperturbed but it did sting. “Do you still think it suits me? Do you still see me like that? I know that I am not Saewyn but...”_

_Saewyn was her best friend but Cyneith always envied her. Her beautiful hair, her figure, her sweet voice. Saewyn liked all the things a woman should like, was sweet and pretty. Cyneith was the weird one. She liked horses more than people. She liked shooting a bow and spending as much time as she could outside. Her mother thought her to read and she loved it. Wherever she could she was trying to find another book to borrow. Her father finally allowed her to help him in the bakery in more than actual baking. She was taking care of his books now and she really was good at it. She was the “uneasy spirit”, as her mother called her. Always wanted more. Always angry at the world that is was divided into men and women and the fact that their roles were different and it was frowned upon to try and change that._

_“I am glad that you are not Saewyn,” Éomer interrupted her. “I am glad that you are yourself”._

_She didn’t really know what to say to that._

_“And I do think that that name still suits you but for totally different reasons now”._

_Cyneith looked up at him with expectant eyes._

_“Your hair is beautiful, do you know that?” Éomer asked, finally looking at her. “It really is as black as raven’s feathers. And in the sunlight it shines a thousand different colours”._

_“You are lying,” she whispered, suddenly shy. She felt her cheeks flushing bright pink, which was not a common occurrence._

_“I am not,” he chuckled. “You wanted the truth so I am going to give you exactly that”._

_She didn’t answer him. This time she was the one avoiding his eyes, pretending to be entirely focused on brushing her fingers through the cold water._

_“I know that we used to make fun of your skin. That you are a baker’s daughter and your skin is really pale. It was funny at that time for some reason. Now I cannot remember why”._

_He took her hand into his and entwined their fingers._

_“Your skin is beautiful, it always has been. Your eyes have the colour of the emerald my mother had on her wedding ring. The brightest and the deepest green I have ever seen”._

_She wanted to tell him to stop making fun of her but in the same time, she desperately wanted his words to be true._

_“And the main reason I still call you that,” he said in a low voice, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She still was too embarrassed to look at him. “Is that you are free. You are not afraid to fly, to be different, to want more. From the first day I met you I knew that you are something else”._

_He lifted her chin with his fingers, squeezing her hand tighter with the other. “I do think that Saewyn is pretty but to me you are beautiful in a way she could never be. I do not think that anyone could. I hope that one day you will understand how extraordinary you are”._

_Her eyes shone with tears. She wasn’t sure whether they were the tears of joy or sadness. She had dreamt about this. About him telling her that she is beautiful, that he finds her interesting, that he sees her as a woman. When it happened, she understood how impossible her dreams have been. She was a daughter of a baker, he was a rider, a nephew to the king. It could never be, no matter how much she willed it._

_“There are no berries left, let’s get back”._

_They were interrupted by Fengar’s voice, when he came back through the bushes. Éomer didn’t let go of her hand until he helped her stand up. That moment she promised herself not to let herself hope ever again in order to protect her heart. Deep inside though she knew it was already broken._

“I am sorry, I am thinking too much,” she answered him, smiling a sad little smile. “Let’s drink something and make the most of the last night of your freedom”.

So they did. They danced until their feet hurt, they sang until their voices got hoarse, they laughed until it hurt to laugh any more. It was a perfect night and she was sorry for it to end but she felt exhausted and could barely hold herself upright.

“Good night,” she said, standing from the ground. She kissed the top of Éomer’s head. The gesture she had done so many times before felt different somehow this time, like a true goodbye. From tomorrow’s afternoon he will be in some way even further away that he had been when he left for war.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your tent?” he asked, looking up at her. His eyes seemed strange, expectant.

“No,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “You know it’s only a few feet away. Stay, enjoy if you still have the strength”.

She shouted her goodbye to the others still conscious enough to sit by the fire. Saewyn and Herudred excused themselves sometime before. The rest of the men, although not quite sober, still laughing loudly and exchanging stories, shouted back and wished her a good night.

She didn’t drink much mead but apparently enough to cloud her rational thoughts and fill her heart with sudden emptiness. She envied Saewyn like she had never before. Saewyn could spend this night and soon every night, in the arms of her love while her... Cyneith heart was filled with the longing that could never be fulfilled. Especially not now, when the man she loved surely will be expected to marry not for love but for money, alliances and influence. It was impossible when he had been the Marshal, and now it was a laughable dream.

_When she saw them riding into the city she felt like she could breathe again. He was back, alive and finally home. She watched him dismount his horse and take off his helmet. He was visibly tired. His eyes seemed strangely hollow, his shoulders more tense than they used to be. He was wrapped in a new cloak, a king’s cloak. The rich golden embroidery shone in the sun. He looked around and finally their eyes met. She wanted to run to him, to pull him into her arms, to tell him how much she missed him. She knew she could not do that. She smiled brightly despite the tears in her eyes and he smiled back, although much smaller, sadder smile._

_He was home and that had to be enough._


	2. Chapter 2

When Cyneith got to her tent, she took off her clothes, staying just in her tunic. The furs she brought with her were more than enough to keep her warm. She slipped beneath them and in spite of her best efforts not to, cried herself to sleep.

Not long after that, she was woken up by the sound of rustling fabric. She sat upright startled and saw Éomer standing over her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Are you lost, _sire?_ ”

“Hush,” he answered, kneeling next to her and taking off his boots. “Move over”.

“What? Are you serious? You have your own tent,” she protested but moved nonetheless.

He laid down beside her on the furs, crossing his arms under his head. His eyes were still open, fixed on the fabric moving in the breeze over their heads.

Air in the tent suddenly felt thick with unspoken words. She stole a glance at Éomer but hurriedly burrowed her face in the furs and tried to will her mind to sleep.

She must have been successful at some point because she woke up again a few hours later, feeling unexpectedly warm. It should not be so hot in her tent, not in the crisp air of a spring morning before the sun even rose, not even under the furs.

When her mind caught up and she realised why she felt as she did, Cyneith froze and was sure she blushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Sometime in the night Éomer must have rolled under the furs with her. They had slept together many times before in their youth. When they stayed in the forest for a night a few times, when they lost track of time and talked late into the night hiding in the stables or when they had a bit too much cake they sometimes stole from the kitchens and needed a nap. But it had always been just that, sleeping.

This time they were much older. This time they were not a pair of teenagers but a man and a woman old enough to know what that could lead to. Old enough to understand the feelings they had for each other and how dangerous they were.

_“Why don’t you let me kiss you?” Éomer asked her for a third time that day._

_She barely stopped herself from stomping her foot. She was beyond irritated by that point._

_“I told you why. Please do not make me repeat myself again”._

_“I do not understand you. You like me, I like you, why can’t we...”_

_“Because it is going to be just a practice for you and for me kissing someone means much more,” she interrupted him. “You may think it’s funny, I don’t care. I am sure you will find many other girls in the city who will be glad to kiss you”._

_“I do not want to kiss them, I want to kiss you”._

_“But you won’t. Please, just drop it”._

_He watched her for a long moment before he said, “Fine. I hope that one day you will change your mind about that”._

She hadn’t. However, as they got older, there were many moments she wanted to. Like that day they sat by the stream and he told her he found her beautiful and extraordinary. But it was also the day she realised how impossible their relationship would be, so she promised herself to be even stronger. It would just ruin their friendship and she cherished it more than anything else. Over the next few years before the war she saw him with many women. He was a handsome, strong, young rider and never had any problem with finding an eager companion. Every time she saw him wrap his arms around another it felt like a dagger to the heart. But that women came and went and their friendship stayed as it had been. It made her even more certain that her decision was right.

Now, feeling his hot breath on her neck, her strength seemed to slip away. The years of longing, of dreaming about him, of wondering what it would be like to know how his lips taste like, what it would be to feel his weight on her or how his skin would feel against hers, finally made her weak. She wanted, _needed_ to find it out.

When she was lost in her thoughts, Éomer stirred in his sleep. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into him.

Cyneith gasped at the contact, because it made her realise a few things that made her thoughts run even faster. The first was that she must have been tossing in her sleep because her tunic rode high up, leaving her naked from the waist down. The second, that Éomer must have been too warm under the furs, like he usually was, so at some point he must have taken off his own shirt. Now, when he pulled her into him, she could feel his naked skin on her back. His arm resting against her exposed stomach almost burned. As he nuzzled his nose against her neck and his lips touched her skin lightly, she couldn’t stop the quiet whimper from escaping her lips. He was practically plastered to her back. Even though he was still wearing pants, she felt his cock, long and hard, pressing against her butt.

Her heart was racing, her breath was shallow, her mind was blank. She had no idea what to do and how to leave. She wasn’t even sure anymore why she would ever think about leaving his arms.

A heartbeat later it didn’t matter. She felt him stir once again, his breath on her neck changed and she knew he was now awake.

They laid there for a long moment, totally still. She half expected him to pull away but he held her tightly against him with his face buried in her neck.

After some time Éomer started drawing invisible patterns on her stomach with his fingertips. Goosebumps broke out over her skin and Cyneith shivered uncontrollably.

She should have stopped him. In the far corner of her mind she knew that but she relaxed into him instead.

His hand slid lower, down to her knee and up again a few times. His touch was delicate, barely there, yet it was enough to make it very hard to breath.

Éomer shifted behind her, pushing a knee between her legs and hooking her thigh over his. There was no doubt where it all was leading.

She should have stopped him but she craved his touch so much that nothing else mattered anymore. She knew it would not change anything. The moment the sun rises, he will leave this tent and a few hours later is going to be crowned their king. Until that moment though, until they were enveloped in the darkness and silence of the early morning, it didn’t matter.

His hand slipped over her hip and down to cup her sex. Cyneith gasped at the contact. No one had ever touched her there. She was a grown woman, she knew how to bring herself pleasure but she had never let any of her relationships to go that far. It just hadn’t felt right. This time though she was as sure as she had never been about anything.

His lips slid up her neck to her ear. His breath was as unsteady as hers. It was good to know that he was as affected as she was.

When he stayed like that for a moment, his lips still sliding up and down her neck, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses but his hand not moving, she realised that he was waiting for some form of her consent. She grabbed his wrist and pushed it lower, opening her legs a bit more.

He moaned against her ear and slid his fingers between her folds. Maybe with another man she would be embarrassed that she was already so wet and ready, even though he barely touched her, but not with him. Allowing him to touch her and herself to accept the pleasure he was about to give her was surprisingly freeing.

Éomer was working her unhurriedly, lazily circling her clit. The heat was building in her equally slowly until it became almost unbearable. It simmered under her skin, in her veins, making her moan softly even though she tried to keep quiet.

“Please,” Cyneith whispered, grinding her butt against him.

His only answer was a loud, almost pained groan as he bit down on her shoulder. He pressed his hips harder against her while he pushed a finger inside her. He cursed when she tightened uncontrollably at the intrusion.

“Please,” she repeated, not being able to form a coherent thought and ask more precisely for what she needed.

Éomer started moving his hand faster with a thumb pressed firmly against her clit.

Cyneith felt like a string ready to snap and soon she came with a broken sigh, her eyes snapping open and her back arching against him. Her skin was tingling all the way to the tops of her fingers and toes. She was gasping for air, blood thumping loudly in her ears. 

His hand slid up her body under her hiked up tunic and cupped her breast, smearing her wetness as it went.

Her heart was as full as it had never been before but somehow she felt empty. She wanted to know how it would feel to have him inside her.

Cyneith turned around in Éomer’s arms and looked him in the eyes. They looked desperate, hungry, with pupils blown wide. She cupped his face and pulled him to her, slamming their lips together. He let his weight rest on her and pushed his tongue into her mouth.

They kissed for a long while, relishing in the feeling. Then, he shifted over her, kneeling between her legs and pulling her up with him. They separated only long enough for him to take off her tunic and toss it carelessly aside and for her to help him push down his pants.

When Éomer pushed her back down and hovered on his forearms over her, Cyneith thought that he wanted to say something but was not able to find the right words.

“I know,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through his beard. She didn’t want him to say the words he was looking for, she didn’t want to hear them. It would hurt even more not to be able to hear them ever again.

She kissed him once more, more tenderly this time. She let him tug at the ribbon holding her hair and it spilled around her head over the furs.

“I am glad that you changed your mind about letting me kiss you,” Éomer murmured against her neck, sliding his lips down to her collarbone. She couldn’t help but giggle at that.

This temporarily lighter mood disappeared instantly when his teeth grazed against her nipple and she felt him pushing against her entrance.

Cyneith shifted her hips up and wrapped her thighs tightly around his hips, pulling him in.

She thought it would hurt more but it was more of a strange feeling than a painful one. She was overwhelmed by his scent, his warmth, the weight of his body, the way he felt inside her. It was more than she could have ever imagined.

He moved slowly, one of his hands holding her hip tightly and helping her move with him. His lips wandered anywhere he could reach. When she tried to reach down between them, he snapped her wrist and pinned it down next to her head. She felt him smile against her breast when he hooked her leg over his elbow and snapped his hips up, making her moan loudly.

She completely lost the sense of time and space. It seemed like they were the only two people in the whole world tucked away in some secret hidden place where nothing can hurt them and no one can find them. It may be minutes or hours later when she was again gasping for air, feeling hot pleasure starting to spread all over her body. She came with his hand cradling her head, making her look into his eyes as she did. He followed her soon after, not even trying to muffle his low moan of completion.

In that moment she knew that it was a good decision to give herself to him. His face, so relaxed in pleasure, eyes unfocused, lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed, was a sight to behold.

They laid curled up together until the first rays of sunshine cut through the thick canvas. He was playing with her hair with one hand and smoothing the other over her thigh, while she was brushing her fingers against his chest. She was trying to remember the feeling of hair on his chest against her cheek, the sound of his steady heart, the shape of every scar, so that she could come back to this moment when she will be laying alone in her bed and replay it in her mind with as many details as possible.

When they couldn’t prolong it anymore, Éomer dressed up and sneaked out with one last lingering kiss.

She saw him again later in the afternoon. As his closest friends they were invited to the Golden Hall for the coronation. She watched him swear to protect the people and the land and to do anything in his power to ensure the time of peace and prosperity. She wondered how she could be so happy and so sad in the same time. She was so proud of him. She was sure he is going to be the greatest ruler they had in years and people will only have love and respect for him. But the pain in her heart was as strong as she really had a dagger pierced through it. Within a few hours, she found and lost him again.

She watched as a golden crown was put on his head and richly embroidered red cloak on his shoulders. She cheered with the gathered crowd and hailed their new king. She promised herself that whatever happens she will remain his friend. Whoever he will chose to marry, however he will choose to rule, she will accept and support it.

She had him for a night and that had to be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

If she were to imagine a perfect day for a wedding, that would be this one. It was raining the whole night but the morning sky was clear, the air fresh and smelling of earth and water.

Cyneith spend the day preparing her best friend to be married to the love of her life. It could not be more perfect. Saewyn looked stunning in her deep blue dress. Her eyes shone with happiness, like she was so full of it she could barely contain it. Her mother braided her hair, while all the gathered women sat in the room laughing and sharing stories from their own wedding days.

Cyneith was focused entirely on her friend. It was Saewyn’s day, she was the most important one there. Or at least she was trying to. Her thoughts were drifting from time to time to the idea of her own wedding. Will she ever marry? Will she ever find a man she loves enough to give herself wholly to? She was trying not to think of the obvious, that she already have.

_She was woken up by a gentle knock on the window, just above her head. Startled, but with a strong hunch who might be waiting outside, she grabbed her cloak and left the house, trying not to wake her sleeping parents._

_Éomer was standing there, with a hood on his head. The moonlight made his hair look almost white._

_“What are you doing here?” Cyneith asked, wrapping her cloak tighter around her._

_“I came to talk to you of course,” he said, stepping closer, until he was just a few inches away. “I am sorry that I didn’t come sooner”._

_“It’s fine. I do not think that there is anything to talk about”._

_Only then she finally looked up at him. He looked baffled. Apparently, that was not the words he was certain to hear._

_“What do you mean by that? Of course there is.” Éomer took her hand and entwined their fingers. “I do not believe that night meant nothing to you”._

_“It meant everything,” she whispered, her voice already breaking. Why couldn’t he just let it be? Why he had to open the wounds that she was trying so hard to close?_

_He cupped her cheek with his other hand and leaned down to kiss her. She should have stopped him but again, she were powerless to do so._

_He tasted sweet, maybe of mead he’d had with his supper or maybe it was just him. She slipped her hands under the hood of his cloak and grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Cyneith allowed herself a moment to be lost again, to let his smell envelop her and to feel the warmth of his body so close to her before she broke the kiss and stepped back._

_“You have to go”._

_“Cyneith-,”_

_“No,” she stopped him, taking another step back when he tried to grab her wrist and pull her back to him. “There is no future between us, you know that. Please, do not give me hope when there is none”._

_His eyes were equally hurt and confused, when they searched her face._

_“What do you mean by that? No future? I came here to offer you just that, to ask if you want to-”_

_“Don’t, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking again. “I cannot be your queen”._

_“Why not? The only reason I see that it could be true is if you do not want to be”._

_She sighed deeply and met his eyes again. He was so open and expectant. She didn’t understand how he could not see what she did._

_“Did you talk with your council about marrying me?”_

_The look of embarrassment flew through his face before he could stop it._

_“Oh, you did,” Cyneith said. She was actually surprised that he had taken his plans that far but she also knew what they’d said. “ And what was their opinion on it?”_

_“Their opinion doesn’t matter-”_

_“It does matter,” she interrupted him again. “They said that I am no fit to be your queen. That you need to choose wisely who you are going to marry. That it is more about influence and money than love. That love may come but your marriage is to be a fruitful contract. Am I at least close?”_

_Éomer didn’t respond to that. She knew, she was right. There was no way that they would allow them to marry. He was to chose a daughter of one of the wealthy lords or a foreigner to straighten an union between lands. She was none of those things. She was a nobody. She could not give him gold or an army. She was not and never will be enough._

_“Listen to me, please,” Éomer said finally. “I am going to say to you what I told them”._

_She let him take her hands in his and decided to hear him out. Even though his words were not going to change anything she owed him at least that._

_“I am willing to give this land and my people everything I have. I am willing to give my life, my mind, whatever is needed to help us prosper and live in peace. I am not willing to give my heart because it is not mine to give”._

_“Éomer-”_

_“I am not finished,” he said, squeezing her hands tighter. “It is not mine to give because it is yours. It has always been. I have loved you since we were young. I have known it for years but I never said anything because I was sure to die in the war. I wanted you to be happy, to marry, to have children. I didn’t want your heart to be broken when I wouldn’t return. But I did return. When I saw your face after we got back I-”_

_This time his voice broke. She’d never seen him so moved. She wanted to cling to him, to take him into her arms, to say that she will give him anything he asked for. Instead, she stood frozen and watched him struggle to get the words out._

_“To see you alive and well was the biggest joy I could have asked for. In the same time I felt gutted because I wanted to run to you, to take you in my arms and marry you on the spot but I was sure you have been already married. I could not possibly imagine how could you not be. Yet, I found out that you were not. I let my heart hope that maybe you’ve been waiting for me and... And that night last week. I’ve not planned it to happen but I could not be happier that it did. I know that it won’t be easy and that I am asking a lot from you but if there is something I am certain of, it is that we will be great together. You know this land, you know this people, you are more than fit to be a queen. We may lead this country to greatness together and I dare anyone to say otherwise.”_

_She could barely see him through the tears that were running down her cheeks. He was saying all the right words, all the things she’d dreamt of hearing but it still felt impossible to be true._

_“I am asking you to give me a chance to find a way to make it right. That is all. I am asking for a bit of hope. If you want me, if you let me, I will do anything in my power to make people realise that this is the best that could happen to this land”._

_She wanted to interrupt him again but he hold out his hand, stopping her._

_“I also promise you that if I fail, I will forever be your friend and will never let anything change that. Please,” his eyes searched hers, as he cupped her cheeks again, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “Please, just let me try”._

Now, saying her prayers over the bride-to-be with other women, asking the gods to bless her, her husband and their future children, Cyneith could only hope, that she hadn’t made a stupid decision to agree to his plea. She truly didn’t see a way out, not even the slightest hope that it will work but she could not have told him no. In her prayers she dared to ask the gods to guide them too. She begged them not to let their friendship die when it all goes wrong.

As the sun began to set, the women left the bride’s house in a procession to escort her to the Golden Hall. Saewyn and Herudred were granted the honour to be married by the king himself and they were allowed to have their feast there too. It was very generous of Éomer to help his friends like that and it was highly appreciated as none of them came from a wealthy family.

When they ascended the stairs to the Hall, little girls threw flowers under their feet. The last rays of sunshine played on Saewyn’s blonde hair and the wind brought the smell of the forest with it. Saewyn was smiling brightly while she grabbed Cyneith’s wrist for a moment, squeezing it tightly.

“I hope that you will be brave enough to fight for him, for your own happiness. It is so worth it. I hope that the two of you will stand here one day and I will be saying prayers for you, Cyneith”.

Cyneith stood gobsmacked, not being able to answer her friend’s words. She had never said anything about her feelings for Éomer. She always felt that saying them out loud would only make them seem even more surreal or naive.

“I love you and you will always have a sister in me, whatever happens,” Saewyn said and turned back to walk into the Hall, leaving her speechless. Was it that obvious? Or maybe her friend knew her better than Cyneith thought she did.

The next few moments felt like a dream. Cyneith watched Saewyn and Herudred faces as their eyes met. She had never seen two people looking at each other with more adoration. Then she spotted Éomer, standing at the end of the Hall. He smiled brightly at their friends’ clear joy, waiting to bind their lives forever.

Cyneith could not, would not meet his eyes. Why had she agreed to his mad idea? Why was she doing that to herself?

The vows were exchanged, their hands were bound and they were pronounced husband and wife. Herudred kissed Saewyn with abandon, like there were just the two of them in the room, which made a few of the younger men to whistle.

Then, as the sun set, they were dancing and eating and singing and laughing like that night was never to end. People finally had something joyful to celebrate and they made the best of it.

For Cyneith it all felt unreal. She was deliberately avoiding Éomer the whole night. How could she dance with him or talk to him like nothing ever happened? She was worried that after he will be proven wrong by his councillors, they will never find a way back to their friendship. How could they now, when they both knew that they wanted so much more. Her worst fear was beginning to come true. She was going to lose him one way or the other.

Cyneith was avoiding Saewyn as well. She didn’t want to talk about what her friend knew or was suspecting. She was not ready for that. Saewyn, however, had other plans. When Cyneith was filling her mug, trying to get lost in the crowd somewhere in the corner of the Hall, Saewyn grabbed her arm and pulled her outside.

“Come with me,” Saewyn said, tightening her grip. “I have to get some air”.

As refusal was clearly not an option, Cyneith followed her friend outside. The night’s air was pleasantly cool and fresh after spending the last few hours in the stuffy room.

They stood in silence for a long while before Saewyn finally spoke.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you earlier. I know that you are not ready to talk to me about what happened that night we spend outside the city but I just want you to know that I am here for you when you will be ready”.

Cyneith didn’t answer. She looked straight ahead at the night’s sky because she just couldn’t find words to describe thoughts running through her head in that moment.

“I know you never told me anything but I knew,” Saewyn said quietly.”I have known for years. At first I didn’t understand why couldn’t you just talk to me about it and was angry at you. Then I tried to see the situation with your eyes and I think I understood. I promised myself to wait for you to come to me. I know that something happened between you two last month, I can feel it. You don’t have to say anything. As I said, I am here for you and I will be waiting as long as it takes and-”

Her words were interrupted by the burst of laughter. Before, they didn’t pay attention to a group of men standing not so far away. Some of them were leaning against the wall and smoking their pipes, some were drinking from the mugs they were holding. Cyneith recognised Holddor who was laughing probably the loudest. Éomer stood next to him, patting his back.

Then, he looked at her and the world seemed to stop for a second. She had a strange feeling, like she knew what was going to happen before it did. The night was calm and quite warm but suddenly, she felt a short and strong blow of the wind against her cheeks. The thin veil she had pinned on her head flew off and before she could catch it, ended right into Éomer’s hands. A simple thing, without much consequences one might think, but Cyneith was instantly reminded of an old custom. She had never seen it but heard about it from her mother. In the presence of witnesses, a woman were to throw her veil at her man to claim him as hers and he were to give her his cloak in a sign of protection. Simple gestures but strong in their symbolism. A way to pledge to one another, to bound when the times were dark, when there was no time or other way to marry.

Everybody fell quiet. Maybe they understood what was happening or maybe the way Éomer and Cyneith stood frozen, their eyes locked and serious, made them equally as solemn.

Éomer moved without hesitation, slowly coming to stand before her. He unclasped his cloak but he held it in his hands, waiting for her decision. It was her choice now. She had to say the words first.

“From-,” Cyneith said but her voice was so hoarse she had to clear her throat. “From this day and for all the days to come,” she started again. Her voice was trembling but her heart was certain. “I give myself to you. My heart, my body, my soul”.

Éomer smiled and released a breath of clear relief before he replied.

“I take you, your heart, body and soul”. The cloak he put over her shoulders was heavy and warm and it enveloped her in his scent. “I pledge myself to you from this day and for all the days to come”.

Cyneith knees were shaking and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Was it possible that it happened? That they found a way somehow?

“May you never go hungry, may you always have love, may the gods bless your union,” Saewyn said, as it was essential for a witness to acknowledge their words.

They stood looking at each other with disbelief for a moment longer, before Éomer pulled her to him and kissed her.

Somewhere on the edge of her mind Cyneith heard Saewyn sobbing and men cheering but she was so consumed in the taste of Éomer’s lips that she barely registered much more. She had no idea what will happen, how they are going to explain what they have just done but in that moment she could not care less.

She had him and that will ever be more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have only one definitely smutty chapter left. I hope it will be worth the wait.


	4. Chapter 4

It would be foolish to assume that everything will go smoothly after their bonding. The members of the council were absolutely furious. From what she heard, they told Éomer that he was going to bring their country to ruin by his foolish and rushed decisions. It took a lot of time and a lot of reasoning until finally they had to yield and accept the king’s choice of his queen. Regrettably, a lot of harsh words had been spoken and Cyneith was sure that many of them will poison her mind for a long time.

Fortunately, the common people took the news much better. They didn’t think of politics when it came to marriage, it was not the way they lived and were taught. For them a marriage was about love, commitment and devotion. They loved as they lived – freely and fully. If the king chose one of them to marry, then so be it. Maybe it was for the best, maybe not, but they respected his decision.

Cyneith _’s_ parents were terrified when they first heard the news. Her mother was worried how Cyneith will find herself in everything now expected of her. She was a simple woman and she raised her daughter to have a simple life, not to be a queen. Surprisingly, it was Cyneith’s father who calmed her mother down. He was a man of a few words, so he shocked Cyneith when he put his hands of his wife’s shoulders and assured her that their daughter will do amazing, that they have been blessed, that he was so proud and so happy that she will marry for love, just like they had.

The thing that at last eased the councilmen’s minds was a letter from the king of Gondor. He send his blessings and supported his old friend’s decision.

When they finally were allowed to properly marry, winter came in full blow. Saewyn’s wedding day, as beautiful as Cyneith had found it, was nothing in her eyes in comparison to her own. Snow has fallen, making the fields and the city look enchanted. The world outside seemed new and peaceful when Cyneith was preparing to leave her parents’ house for the last time.

She was bathed and waxed, her skin pampered with sweet smelling oils. Her mother braided her hair while the other women shared the same stories they had at the Saewyn’s wedding day. All the time Saewyn and Éowyn, who had come to the city a few nights before, were next to her telling her how beautiful she looked and how happy they were for her.

“Are you not angry with me?” Cyneith asked Éowyn, when they helped her lace her dress.

Éowyn looked at her taken aback.

“Why would I ever be angry with you?”

“Do you not think that your brother may have done better for himself? Maybe-”

“Cyneith,” Éowyn said, abandoning her task for a moment and grabbing Cyneith’s hands into hers. “I could not be happier for the two of you. I’ve known that my brother fancies you for a long time. It was not my place to say anything because I thought you only wanted his friendship but I am glad I was wrong. I am happy to have you as my sister. You have my sincere blessing”.

In accordance with tradition, when the sun was low they left the house and walked Cyneith to the Golden Hall. The amount of people gathered was incomparably greater this time. People were standing along the streets greeting and blessing her which meant a world to her. It was wonderful to feel their acceptance and support.

This time, because of the season, there were no girls with the flowers but the steps to the Golden Hall were lit by torches leading her way. The bottom of her deep green dress was already wet when she got to the top of the stairs but it didn’t matter. When the door opened and she saw Éomer with a crown on his head and heavy, richly embroidered cloak on his shoulders, looking as much the king as ever, she felt intimidated and out of place for a moment. But then he looked at her and the love in his eyes was enough to reassure her.

All the people inside the Hall were a blur of faces and colours as she didn’t recognise many of them. That would change soon enough but for that moment they didn’t matter. The only thing that did was Éomer’s hand in her hand as they were bound together with a red ribbon by the Holddor as the captain of the king’s guard.

Cyneith didn’t pay much attention to Holddor’s words as he greeted everyone gathered and started the ceremony. Only when Éomer squeezed her hand to bring her back to him, she realised it was time for their vows.

“I, Éomer, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Cyneith to my hand, my heart and my spirit, to be my chosen one. I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine, no shall a grievous word be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond where we shall meet, remember and love again.”

Cyneith had been sure she was going to cry but the tears didn’t come. In her heart she felt only peace. She was surprised when Éomer pulled out a ring from his pocket and slipped it on her finger. It was not customary to exchange any kind of wedding rings in the Mark during the ceremony. When she looked down she recognised it immediately, although she had never seen it before. It was his mother’s ring with an emerald, the one he’d told her about many years ago. She smiled brightly and answered him in sure, steady voice.

“I, Cyneith, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Éomer, to my hand, my heart and my spirit, to be my chosen one. I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine, from this day it shall only be your name I cry out in the night. I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond where we shall meet, remember and love again.”

They joined their other hands and they were bound again, with a green ribbon this time.

“You are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my body, that we two might be one. I give you my spirit, ‘til our life shall be done. While we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give.”

Their combined voices were loud and clear in the quiet hall. It felt like they spoke only to each other, like the world shrunk to just the two of them.

“May you see your children’s children, may you be poor in misfortune and rich in blessings, may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward,” Holddor started the final blessing, smiling so widely that it must have hurt. “May the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always on your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields. May the light of friendship guide your paths together, may the laughter of children grace the halls of your home, may the joy of living for each other trip a smile from your lips, a twinkle from your eye. When the eternity beckons, at the end of the life heaped high with love, may you find each other and love again”.

Cyneith almost leaned in to kiss her husband, forgetting that this time it was not the end of the celebration.

Holddor picked up a crown from a nearby wooden chest and gave it to Éomer. It was a smaller, much more delicate version of the one he wore.

When he gently placed it on her head if felt much heavier than it really was. It was not the matter of weight but obligation she was accepting. She was sure it won’t be easy but surely worth everything she was able to give.

Then, when their hands were released and he finally kissed her the applause was almost deafening.

In the next few hours Cyneith has met many people but she would not be able to tell their names even if her life depended on it. She barely ate something, even though she was constantly encouraged to do so. For some reason, she was waiting for the other shoe to drop but the evening progressed without any incidents. The Hall was filled with laugher and music, people were singing, dancing, drinking and eating. Nobody seemed to be as stressed as she was.

She finally started to relax once her husband, not believing her repeated assurances that she was perfectly fine when he clearly saw that something was amiss, made her dance with him to a few songs, leaving her breathless from exertion.

Not long after that Saewyn and Éowyn came to whisk her away. They accompanied her to the king’s chambers which from that day were supposed to become her home.

For a moment Cyneith felt awkward that her husband’s sister was helping her prepare for her wedding night but it didn’t last long. Ultimately, Éowyn was one of her closest friends. They had been apart for so long that Cyneith almost forgot how comforting her presence could be and realised that she missed her friend more than she thought.

They helped her change and brush out her hair, then left, smiling knowingly with a few not so lady-like comments.

Cyneith stood in the middle of the room, not really sure what she was supposed to do. The room was dim, lit only by the fire roaring in the grate. She felt a little bit cold wearing just a thin white linen nightdress and was just thinking about covering herself with something when the door opened.

She heard some loud men’s voices before the door shut and were latched with a quiet thud. The room felt much smaller and hotter in a second. Cyneith turned back slowly to look at her husband.

Éomer was a bit ruffled, probably by his friends who accompanied him just as hers had her. He was looking at her with a small, reassuring smile but not tried to come any closer.

All of a sudden, Cyneith felt extremely anxious again. They had slept together once before but this night felt entirely different. That night in the tent was all about passion and she hadn’t had much time for thinking back then. After that, in the last months, they shared nothing more but a few stolen kisses, as they were trying to do everything as proper as possible not to angry the members of the council even more.

Now she felt like he was going to see her for the first time and her mind started wandering again. Are they going to be happy together? Are they going to please each other? Were they right to go through this madness or were they terribly wrong to had followed their hearts?

“Are you nervous, my love?” Éomer asked, his deep voice stopping her racing thoughts.

“Actually, yes. I do not know why, to be honest, but I am”.

He slowly came to stand before her and took her face in his hands. As he approached, she felt already naked under his gaze.

“There is something I would like to ask of you,” Éomer said, leaning down his head to brush his lips against hers.

Cyneith just nodded, feeling tension leaving her shoulders and starting to concentrate in her belly. There was probably no one else who was able to calm her down as quickly as him.

“I cherish our friendship more than anything, you know that,” he murmured against her skin, as his lips slid to the corner of her mouth. “But here, in these rooms I want you to forget about it when we are alone”.

She shivered when he stepped even closer to her and his hot breath warmed her neck.

“Here, I want us to be just a man and a woman, a husband and wife. No titles, no obligations, no duties. In this rooms I want you to see me as your lover, I want you in my arms at night even if we had an argument or are angry at each other for some reason. Would you promise me that?”

As he spoke, his mouth travelled to her ear to graze the lobe with his teeth.

“Yes,” Cyneith breathed. She was no longer anxious. Now, she couldn’t wait to see what that night had to offer.

His arms slid to her waist, one continuing lower to grab her hip as he pulled her into him.

She whimpered quietly, when their chests pressed together and the harsh material of her nightdress brushed against her nipples. She could feel his arousal against her belly and felt the need to touch him, find out how it would feel in her hand.

“Are you still afraid?”, Éomer asked, his voice now deeper and huskier than before.

Cyneith answered by sliding her arms up his shoulders and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. He met her halfway, with his lips already open, not even trying to go slow anymore or hide how affected he was.

She let him slip his tongue inside her mouth, relishing in the taste of him. Her hands twined in his hair and when he playfully nipped her lower lip, she tugged probably a bit too harsh on them. She wanted to apologise, but as it turned out, there was nothing to apologise for. His arm around her waist tightened and he deepened their kiss even more, cupping her cheek to position her head to do so.

Cyneith was feeling lightheaded and dreamy. The room was starting to spin a little, but she didn’t want to release him. It was so right to feel his heartbeat in his neck under her fingertips, as racing as hers, to let his hands map her body, to twist her fingers into his hair until he groaned deeply in his chest.

“You asked me once, how I see you. Let me show you then,” Éomer murmured against her lips as they finally parted for air. He made her step backwards a few steps and turned her in his arms.

They stood before a tall mirror, where her friends had helped her brush out her hair earlier. Despite the dim lighting their reflection was clear enough and Cyneith had to admit they did paint a pretty picture.

The outline of her breasts and hips was visible through the thin material of her dress, her nipples straining against the sheer fabric. Éomer’s tanned arms wrapped around her waist were in stark contrast to the white cloth. He nuzzled his face into her neck, but his eyes were looking directly at their reflection.

Slowly, he slipped the thin straps from her shoulders, his lips never leaving her neck. The loose dress fell to her hips, leaving her chest exposed. Her first instinct was to cover herself but his hands grabbed her wrists before she could do so.

“Don’t,” Éomer murmured. Cyneith could feel his voice rumbling in his chest against her back. “I never want you to feel shame when you are with me. I want to see you, I want to hear you. I want you to ask me for what you desire and I shall give it to you if I am in the power to do so”.

If it were possible, his words made a knot in her stomach tighten even more. Then he tugged at the fabric bunched at her hips, making it fall to her feet.

“I believe you are wearing too much clothes, my lord,” she said, sounding much more collected than she felt. She had seen herself naked in the mirror many times before but with hands of another on her skin it felt much more intimate than it had when it was just her. Despite her earlier nervousness she felt confident and wanted and it made her bolder that she thought she could be.

He chuckled at her words and released her for a moment to pull off his tunic.

“Is it more to your liking now?” Éomer asked, wrapping his arms against her waist again. The feeling of his naked skin on hers made her knees a little weak.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice so low that she hardly recognised it. Just like last time they had been together, he barely touched her, yet she was already trembling.

His hands slid up to cup her breasts. As his fingers played with her nipples not so lightly, her head fell back on his shoulder.

“Open your eyes,” he said with an even harder tug. “I want you to watch”.

Cyneith obliged with a gasp. She wanted to answer him but she just couldn’t find the words to do so. She was putty in his hands.

“I’ve thought of you every time when I was laying alone at night,” his breath almost burned her skin as his lips slid to her shoulder. “I’ve never thought that it will ever come true but I’ve imagined how your skin would feel under my fingers, how yours lips would taste like. I could almost feel your hands on me, hear you begging me to take you. I still cannot believe that you are truly here, that you are mine”.

As he spoke, one of his hands slid down to her core and parted her nether lips, opening her to him.

Again, she tried to say something, to respond in any way but she found herself beyond words. The only sound that escaped her lips was a loud whimper. Still, she kept her eyes opened, as he told her to.

Éomer cursed when he slipped a finger inside her. She was so aroused by now that she could feel her wetness on the insides of her thighs. 

“The way you welcome me,” he breathed against her ear. “There will never be another. It has always been just you. I am forever yours“.

As he pushed another finger inside her, her knees would have surely gave out, was he not holding her tightly around her waist.

The way they looked in the mirror was beyond erotic. Cyneith wanted, _needed_ him now. She was not sure she could withstand much more teasing.

Just when she was ready to beg him to just take her to their bed, Éomer let go of her.

“Why-” she wanted to ask, confused and barely standing upright, but he silenced her with one look. He went around her and kneeled before her, grabbing her hips tightly.

“Keep watching,” was his last words before he buried his face between her legs.

Cyneith had heard rumours about such an act but it felt much better than she could have ever imagined. The feeling of his tongue, of his lips sucking her clit, of his moans vibrating through her was overwhelming. She could only hold on to his hair and shoulders as her eyes were fixed on their reflexion. The image of his muscles working under his skin, his head covering her core, her own face so blushed, her eyes glazed with pleasure, was enough to quickly send her over the edge.

She came with a loud, unrestrained keening moan. He said he wanted to hear her, so she let her body take the reins of her completion.

As soon as she thought her knees won’t hold her any longer, Éomer stood up and picked her up into his arms.

She was laying in their bed, his body covering hers when she came to her senses.

Cyneith wanted to hold him, to touch him everywhere she could reach. To slide her lips over his skin, to memorise every inch of him, to taste him just as he had tasted her. But when she reached down to take him into her hand, as he was opening his breeches, he stopped her.

“Not tonight, my love. I can’t, I-” Éomer said. She never heard his voice as unsteady as it was at that moment.

Cyneith met his eyes then and she was sure she could have drown in them. He looked feverish, desperate.

“Please, my love, please,” he murmured against her lips, before he kissed her hard and demanding. She could feel that he was on the verge of losing his control.

“Yes”.

That was the only thing she was able to say, as she opened her legs as wide as she could.

As soon as he fit between her thighs, he took her in a one hard thrust. Her head fell back, eyes closed and her breath was pushed from her lungs.

His arm above her was shaking, the hand on her thigh gripped her hard enough to bruise. He murmured something against her ear, but she was too overwhelmed to understand the words. The one she was able to recognize was that he called her “mine” again and again. With every hard thrust of his hips she climbed higher and higher until she was not sure where the floor and where the ceiling was, whether they were lying down or simply floating. Everything around her focused on the feeling of him inside her and over her. She was able to tell that he was close too, as his movement stumbled and she could hear his ragged breath as he burrowed his face in her hair.

Cyneith wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed around him. The loud moan she was able to get out of him was the most beautiful sound she has ever heard.

Her hands twined in his hair again and she pulled him even closer, although she didn’t think it possible. A heartbeat later, he grunted and thrust hard into her, then his hips stilled. The feeling of his seed filling her pushed her over the edge once more. She came with his name on her mind, although she was not sure it sounded from her lips as she was beyond any coherent thought and had not much power over her own body at that point.

When he regained at least some strength, Éomer slipped out of her and fell back on the bed pulling Cyneith with him, so that she laid almost across his chest.

Neither of them said anything. Maybe because there was nothing more to say or maybe they just were not able to find the right words. Éomer was holding her so tightly like she was to disappear from his arms. Cyneith draped her leg over his hips and snuggled as close to him as she could, even though they were practically plastered to each other.

She had no idea what the future holds, even though she was sure it won’t be easy, but she was definitely ready to face it with Éomer by her side. 

They had each other and it will always be more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this, a little bit filthy, fairytale. The marriage vows are borrowed from the Celtic vows I found on the internet. Frankly, I find them much more beautiful and romantic than the ones we use nowadays.  
> I hope you are well in this crazy times and I wish you all the best for the year ahead.


End file.
